


I'm so tired (of playing with this bow and arrow)

by Vracs



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Angst, Bananun, Dubious Consent, F/F, Poor Lana, posessed Mary Eunice, this turned very dark very quickly, this was so hard to write because consent is sexy and i'm not sure Mary Eunice can give it, very light S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-22 09:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vracs/pseuds/Vracs
Summary: Mary Eunice saves Lana from the forest when she finds her sneaking around the asylum premises. Except Mary Eunice is possessed and poor Lana has no idea what she's gotten herself into.





	I'm so tired (of playing with this bow and arrow)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this famous edit: http://vracs.tumblr.com/post/182553759672/quinnkinqs-briarcliff-bootycall-someone

_For I've been a temptress too long_

 

Lana's cigarette dies under her heel as Mary Eunice tugs her through the forest, leaving behind them only a gust of smoke and the quiet rustle of autumn leaves.

Lana stumbles through the darkness blindly, Mary Eunice's hand her only guide through the suffocating trees. She can feel the wind race up her back. It zips right under her tweed jacket, chilling her bones.

Briefly, she wonders if Mary Eunice's habit is enough to protect her from the frigid air; the coarse black material sways in front of her as they race back to the hospital. She wonders what else Mary Eunice wears underneath, then floods with guilt and shame at her next thought: Wendy.

The looming oppression of the asylum creeps up on them fast. The air inside is thick and stale as soon as they break through the back door and it hits Lana in the face hard as a fist. She chokes on its nauseating stench.

She can hear faint screams down the hallways, permeating through the deathly quiet and reverberating off the walls. They make her stomach curdle, neck prickling with fear.

Mary Eunice keeps their hands clasped, whispering a soft _'shh'_ as she leads her under the dim fluorescent lights, across the linoleum floors and past locked doors to an unknown destination.

The only thing Lana can focus on are her own panting breaths, the clack of her Mary Janes as they fall in step with Mary Eunice.

She's never been so grateful for refuge as when she's finally pushed into the safety of a dark room, door screeching shut behind her.

Lana breathes a heavy sigh. Her shoulders fall, hands unclenching from the woollen material of her skirt.

"Where are we?"

Mary Eunice turns to her. Lana expects to find a soft expression, the one she'd first been greeted with on that sunlit morning. But Mary Eunice's eyes are black, face clouded with shadows Lana's never seen before, and it makes her halt in her place, stupified in her attempt to decipher this unrecognisable look she's being given for the first time.

She laughs nervously, touching the brooche on her lapel. "Thank you - for getting me out of there. What on earth were those noises?" She means the growling, desparate howls she'd heard in the forest, that Mary Eunice had quickly dragged her from,  _saved her from?,_ dropping both buckets in their haste to get away.

But Mary Eunice doesn't answer. Only flicks on the small desk lamp, flooding the office in pale yellow light.

Lana thinks she may be in big trouble. She's certainly being stared at like she might be - Mary Eunice's eyes don't leave her face, don't blink, just darken with something akin to accusation and Lana's hands sweat, fidgeting with her sleeve. Her heart drums in her chest. A lock of hair falls across her face but she doesn't dare touch it, not when Mary Eunice comes closer to her, steps into her personal space and glares.

"I - I didn't mean to sneak around, I was only -"

A pointed finger to her chest cuts her off and Mary Eunice says, "I've heard about you, Miss Winters," voice low and gravelly.

Lana feels her face flood. She looks down at Mary Eunice's condemning hand, then back up at her face. There's a small smile on her mouth and Lana notices for the first time that Mary Eunice wears a crimson lip and that her eyes are in fact blue and not black, in their close proximity.

She shivers.

"Good things, I hope?" she tries. Her voice cracks and Mary Eunice giggles at her, biting her lip as she swivells to turn her back on Lana.

Lana watches her veil drop to the floor to reveal soft, blonde hair. The length and sway of it makes Lana's throat clench, the muscles in her stomach trembling in response.

She quickly glances at the door to make sure it's closed. _What the hell am I doing here?_

Mary Eunice moves confidently, hips like a pendulum as she circles the desk, swipes the contents of its surface onto the floor with a loud bang.

Lana jolts.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I know why you're here, Miss Winters."

 _Shit._ Lana puts her hands up in defense, shaking her head quickly as her eyes continue to follow Mary Eunice's slender frame. "Whatever you've heard - it's - it's not what it looks like, I was just trying to find some material for my story and the bakery - "

" _Fuck_ the bakery," Mary Eunice breathes but her words ring loud and resonant in Lana's ears like a church bell, high above the pounding of her own pulse.

Lana tries to swallow back her fear. There are prickling needles of sweat on her forehead; she wavers on her feet, overcome with dizziness. The step back she takes brings the door flush with her shoulderblades. Her hand falls on the knob. 

"No - no, I really am interested in your wonderful recipes - Sister Jude's already told me about the bread-making process and - "

And Mary Eunice is perching herself on the desk, bangs messy between her eyes as her lips part, head nodding sympathetically. For a moment, Lana sees a glimpse of hesitation, a bashfulness, _a plea for help_ , gently pass over Mary Eunice's round face. The look is gone before she can think on it, and her eyes fall back to Mary Eunice's mouth, the crimson there.

She has the sense of mind to remember that, _Sisters don't wear makeup_ not to mention the fact that Mary Eunice is looking at her still, expectantly, breath coming quick and laboured between her wet lips, cheeks pink with the effort.

"Is that what you're hungry for, Lana?"

She fumbles blindly with the door handle but it won't budge. Her lungs fill with dread.

"I - don't know what you mean. I think I should go. It's late, and - I should get out of here."

Mary Eunice tuts at her, tapping her short nails on the wooden work surface. It draws Lana's attention to her hands, slim fingers curled around the table's edge. There's a gold wedding band there, glistening in the stark light to remind her, to warn her.

Lana feels her eyes fill with tears, the backs of them stinging unpleasantly as she blinks to clear her blury vision. She turns her back to Mary Eunice, tries to make herself as small as possible in the hopes that Mary Eunice might take some mercy on her in whatever sick, twisted game she plans to play. _What kind of place is this?_

She recoils when Mary Eunice corners her, body hot and close at her back. Her eyes squeeze shut. She can smell the acrid scent of industrial shampoo but also something sharp, lingering, and she wonders if Mary Eunice is wearing perfume.

Then there are firm fingertips on her upper arms, pressing tightly into her skin, even through her jacket. Mary Eunice leans in close to her ear and purrs, "Come on, Lana. Let's not beat around the proverbial bush,"- a chuckle - "You don't have to be shy around me." Her breath ghosts the side of Lana's neck and Lana feels her hands shake at her sides, grasping for something and coming up only with air. "I know exactly what women like you want," Mary Eunice's voice is harsh, firm like the hips that press into Lana's own.

 _Women like me?_ Lana panics. _How much does Sister already know?_

"Hotshot writer like you, a _lesbian,_ " comes the sneer. Lana waits for the smack, for the punishment she knows has been long overdue. She doesn't expect the searing mouth that presses to the edge of her polo neck. She quickly manoeuvers herself around to face Mary Eunice in the tight space between her and the door and Mary Eunice's breath fans over her, eyes glinting beneath her bangs.

Lana tries to read them again. She must look as terrified as she feels because the face in front of her softens again, a cold hand light against her cheek and then not at all, Mary Eunice's body just out of her reach as she gives Lana a warm, soothing smile.

The fast shift in her leaves Lana drunk and off-kilter; she can't keep up with the chase.

"Shall we try that again?"

"I don't know what you want from me. I'm sorry - for _everything_ , I didn't mean to cause you any trouble. If you're worried about Sister Jude finding out, I swear I wouldn't tell a soul - we can pretend this never happened..." she trails off, grasping for more words but they don't come.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?"

Mary Eunice's cheeks dimple and for a moment, Lana finds her absolutely beautiful, innocent and Godly just like that first day. It makes her want to wrap Mary Eunice in her arms, take her away from this awful place and keep her safe, keep her pure and light.

But Mary Eunice is scooting up onto the desk again, brushing hair from her face with a lazy hand and Lana's fantasy shatters as she shifts from foot to foot, counting the thick, stretched out moments that follow.

Mary Eunice beckons her, scooting backwards across the table to prop her heels up. It leaves her in an obscene position, habit riding up her pale, porcelain thighs to reveal translucent stockings as her legs spread and black material falls to preserve the dregs of her modesty. Lana looks on nervously, throat clogging with fear and arousal.

The only woman she'd ever been with was Wendy; the only thighs she'd seen, touched, had been Wendy's, Wendy's hands in her own, mouth pressed to her own, her big, bottomless eyes warm and inviting - a stark contrast to Mary Eunice's summoning blue.

"Please - _don't_."

"Don't what?" Mary Eunice drops her hands to her stomach, winding the material of her habit through her fingers teasingly until they sneak between her thighs, nails tracing patterns on the flushed skin there.

Lana shakes her head. Her voice would betray her.

"Don't what, Lana?"

Mary Eunice tilts her head to the side, eyeing Lana carefully, her dilated, yearning pupils blown wide in the dim room.

Lana looks anywhere but at Mary Eunice and her teasing hands as they move further and further up. She can see them in the periphery of her vision as she focuses on the stark window and its metallic confines just beyond Mary Eunice's shoulder. Her eyes fall on the cupboard, the selection of crops there, designed purely for pain and humiliation, and her stomach twists sickeningly, twists further when Mary Eunice stretches a leg and kicks away the wooden desk chair planted between them.

"What are you really hungry for, Lana? Hmm?"

Lana watches Mary Eunice's long legs spread further. She wants to say, _not this_ , but her body protests, pulse flickering like a hummingbird as her stomach coils tighter. She presses her thighs together. She can feel the heat pooling there, the uncomfortable stickiness even through her woollen pantyhose. Her skirt chafes uncomfortably. She aches to take her blazer off.

"I know you want to," Mary Eunice smiles, voice laced with pity, "look at you. Poor thing, you're _trembling_."

Lana looks down at herself. She is quaking. She feels flushed with fever.

"Come over here. Let me make it better."

Her feet stay rooted. Mary Eunice laughs delightedly. "Oh, don't you know hard-headed is my favourite?" She bites the nail of her thumb.

Lana prides herself on her tenacity. A surge of willpower washes over her and she thinks she might make it to the door if she tries. But sudden, invisible hands wrap around her wrists, push her feet towards Mary Eunice and she tries to fight it, tries to resist the force of it but it squeezes tighter, shoves her towards Mary Eunice's wanton form.

She wants to shout, wants to ask why this is happening to her.

Mary Eunice's words are calm, gentle, "Shh, it's okay. Poor _baby_ ," she coos. Lana can hear the venom laced there, "I just want to help you. Don't you want me to help you? I want that so much," she pulls Lana by her jacket, making light work of the fat buttons there. She holds to Lana's lapel as she slips her other hand under her habit, hovers for a moment before her eyelids flutter shut and Lana knows her fingers are pressing into that secret, sacred place.

" _Mmm_."

Lana feels outside of herself, a bystander in this dangerous escapade. She pictures what it might look like to an intruder: a Sister, touching herself in front of a complete stranger, _her_ , and it feels so much like a nightmare, a fantasy, something that's going to eat her alive for the rest of her days.

She watches Mary Eunice lift her hand slowly, fingers dripping wet.

"You see that?"

Lana's eyes sting again. She tries to swallow around her parched tongue.

She nods mutely.

"Open your mouth."

Mary Eunice doesn't give her a choice, middle finger pushing against Lana's bottom lip until she has no option but to open, Mary Eunice's arousal settling on her tongue. Lana toys with the idea of biting, _hard_ , in retaliation, but Mary Eunice is pulling away before she has the chance, wrapping bare legs around her waist to anchor her.

"Does it taste good? Use your words, Lana. We all know how good you are at that. Don't back out now. I _hate_ being teased."

Lana grunts.  _Yes. You taste like citrus and spite_ , she wants to say. The heat between Mary Eunice's legs presses hard to her hips when she tries to buck away. She focuses on Mary Eunice's eyes, the bottomless midnight blue of them as hands slide up the sides of her blazer, under her shoulderpads, flicking it right off her. It pools by her feet.

Mary Eunice smirks at her.

"On the floor, Lana."

Lana nods. She's no fool. She can clearly see her jacket there, waits anxiously to find out which other items of clothing are going to join it. When she doesn't make a move, Mary Eunice leans to her and presses her mouth just beneath her ear lobe, teeth scraping at the sensitive skin.

They part. Lana stays fixed on Mary Eunice's lipstick smeared salaciously around her mouth.

"Get on your knees." She's allowed one last look; at the way Mary Eunice tilts her head back in anticipation, the way her fingers slip beneath her habit again to get herself ready.

Lana feels something inside her clench.

"Sinners like you - they need to repent. When was the last time you repented, Lana? You're going to _worship_ tonight," she bites out.

Lana's knees buckle, toppled finally by a light pull of Mary Eunice's fingers through her hair. She drops to the floor. The cold tiles smart against her joints. She wonders if Mary Eunice plans to pave the way for her; gets her answer when the habit inches past Mary Eunice's hips and bunches at her stomach. She finds no underwear there.

She feels Mary Eunice cup her chin, tilting her head up to look at her, looming and patrimonial above her. Blonde hair falls around her in angelic halos and Lana could almost laugh, doesn't, at the absurdness of it. Mary Eunice gives her a permissive nod that makes desire curl in the pit of her belly.

She inhales. She knows that scent well. It reminds her of Wendy and her gentle body, of her bashful smile, arm flung across her face to hide her embarrassment as Lana edges closer between her legs. But Mary Eunice only watches her, licks her wet mouth greedily, guides with a hand to the back of her head and Lana aches for it, nauseous and hungry.

She leaves a tentative kiss to the angle of Mary Eunice's hip, pleased when her head drops back in pleasure.

Lana is no beginner.

She feels Mary Eunice's pelvis lift when she presses her mouth against her bikini line, chin brushing against tight coils of blonde hair, then lower, feather-light against the hood of her clitoris.

" _Lana_."

That's her first warning. She knows, as well as the back of her own hand, that there isn't going to be a second. She closes her eyes and feels Mary Eunice's nails scrape against the bones of her neck as she ducks her head, taking a languid swipe up with the flat of her tongue. Her lips coat with thick arousal, tart and heady, and she lets her sweaty fingers slip against the taut skin of Mary Eunice's hips.

She does it again, touch confident as she licks, gliding easily back and forth in lazy motions to match Mary Eunice's. She circles her in too-broad, too-light flicks of her tongue, counting the number of times Mary Eunice bucks against her.

When she closes her mouth against Mary Eunice's clitoris, she hears her name again, whispered and breathless, and when she dares to look up, Mary Eunice's elbows tremble to hold her upright. Her pretty face is a picture of ecstasy, cheeks dimpled as teeth gnaw on her bottom lip. 

Lana sucks softly, cheeks hollow as she feels Mary Eunice twitch beneath her, clitoris hardening in her mouth. She feels herself throb in response. She wants to reach under her skirt, just for a moment, she's sure Mary Eunice wouldn't see her.

But her calves cramp with the weight of balancing her upright, so Lana reaches up instead, under Mary Eunice's habit to stroke between her flushed breasts.

She laps diligently, grinding her jaw against Mary Eunice, hands tightening in her hair. She knows Mary Eunice is close, can tell from the shake of her thighs, the arch of her back, the soft, helpless sounds she makes.

She slides a finger inside, then two. She can't help the smug hum at how easy it is, at the way Mary Eunice grasps for her. She roots quickly for that rough place, smiling into Mary Eunice's folds when she locates it, curling the pads of her fingers up twice firmly before burying deeper.

There's a shift in Mary Eunice's body. Lana hears a low whine above her, senses a gentleness wash over the woman under her mouth; it breaks like a wave against sand, and Mary Eunice falls back flat against the desk, spread out.

 _'Forgive me Father'_ Lana hears, heels digging into Lana's shoulders, but they push her away instead of bringing her in for more. For a moment, Lana thinks Mary Eunice might kick her to the floor. She stills, listening to the fevered words. She recognises the Lord's prayer. She leans up to get a better look.

Mary Eunice's cheeks are stained with tears that Lana didn't expect to find, a panicked look of regret and want and confusion and Lana frowns, wiping her mouth quickly as she clambers up and over the desk in a frenzy.

"Sister?"

Mary Eunice looks up at her with wide, searching, pale blue eyes that dart back and forth with her quick breaths.

"What are you - Are you okay? I thought you wanted - "

The woman that looks back at her is terrified. It feels like a slap across Lana's face. Her stomach turns. She shakes her head, dumbfounded.

Mary Eunice's mouth hangs open but she says nothing. Her eyes are glazed, as if she's been woken from a nightmare. 

There's a pained pinch to her brows, a flash of momentary recognition and her trembling hands are coming up to cover herself away from Lana's astonished eyes.

Lana's knees waver. She's beside herself.

"Sister, I - I don't - I-"

Mary Eunice looks at her through her fingers. Lana bubbles with shame. She wants to touch her face, to apologise, to explain. She cherishes the brief moment of calm, feels guilty that she thinks Mary Eunice looks beautiful like this - spread on a table, tear-stained, _open -_ but it vanishes in the blink of an eye and settles instead into something cold Lana recognises all too well. Her head swims.

"I - "

"Did I ask you to stop?"

Lana shivers, searching for a clue, a sign, _anything_ to help centre her spinning compass. "I don't know what - _Please._ " 

_Please don't toy with me. I don't want to play any more, I can't do this. Please don't make me._

Mary Eunice wraps legs around Lana's waist and pins her flush against her own body, "You're not done," she whispers, reaching for Lana's fumbling hand to put to better use, "until I'm coming and your knees ache."

The words settle in her ribcage, sear through her as she feels her fingers being pushed back inside.

"God. _Fuck_."

"God doesn't live here," Mary Eunice moans, picking up a quick, jarring rhythm instantly, ordering Lana to put her mouth back on her with a rough tug. Lana bows.

She places a firm hand against Mary Eunice's insistent hips in an effort to calm her, mouth grazing over wet, swollen skin as gently as she can.

Mary Eunice barks at her to fuck her,  _'I'm going to teach you what it is to pray'_ but it doesn't sound like Mary Eunice, not at all, and Lana resists the push of a palm to the back of her head, jerking away as her fingers continue a slow, soft assault.

Lana leaves chaste kisses against inner thighs; desparately wants to stop, wants to help Mary Eunice get dressed, help fasten her veil and smooth down her rumpled clothes; hates herself for the way Mary Eunice writhes against her, for being the sole source of her reluctant pleasure, for craving more of the taste between her legs.

She fastens her mouth back on Mary Eunice's vulva, making quick work of building her back up. She wants the Mary Eunice from minutes ago, hopes another orgasm might coax her out. If she has to do this, she wants Mary Eunice to want it, to want her. She closes her eyes and imagines it like that: Mary Eunice smiling at her for the first time, taking the rose from her to lead her up the spiral staircase; Mary Eunice bandaging her pricked finger, handling her with great care; Mary Eunice holding her hand, being twirled around in secret, into shared kisses in dark corners, nervous hands in her hair, under her clothes.

Lana moans longingly. The clench of Mary Eunice's thighs on either side of her head jolts her back to the present, and she grasps blindly for her false memories.

She pushes her fingers against the flutter of Mary Eunice's walls, feels a gush of wetness as Mary Eunice's body quakes and contracts violently, chasing the remnants of her bliss.

When she withdraws, she sees the aftershocks tremor through pale legs and she licks her lips, wiping them against the inside of her wrist.

She hovers back on her haunches, breathless. She aches all over - the pit of her belly, her legs.

Mary Eunice pushes herself up to a half-sit. Her chest rises and falls quickly. Her cheeks glow pink.

"Very good, Miss Winters."

Lana's heart sinks. Mary Eunice isn't there. She longs for her.

'"There's a special place in hell for you," Mary Eunice winks at her, laughing exhaustedly as she readjusts her black skirt. 

Lana doesn't say anything, just lets her heels slip from underneath her so she topples onto the floor in a defeated sit. She looks up at Mary Eunice as she moves away from the table - a vision of innocence - and makes a slow circle around her. She pets the crown of Lana's head, bends down to lift her chin so their eyes lock.

"I might just have to keep you here," she smiles, thumb brushing over Lana's cupid's bow. Lana wants to jerk away but can't; only follows Mary Eunice's predatory form obediently. Her heart clenches in her throat when a hand cups her cheek and Mary Eunice kneels in front of her, "Such a _good_ girl," fingers squeeze against the line of her jaw and Lana thinks Mary Eunice might kiss her, hot breath bouncing off her parched lips.

She shakes her head.

" _Pity_ ," Mary Eunice pouts back at her. Lana feels close to tears for the umpteenth time, humiliation flooding her eyes as she struggles to respond. She ducks away from Mary Eunice's prying touch, wiping her cheek on her sleeve sloppily. She hears the door behind her click open, following Mary Eunice's eyes to realise it had been her doing. Her blood curdles. "Shall I let you go?"

The thought of freedom makes Lana's head pound, she almost crawls across the floor over the threshold of her captivity. She stares at Mary Eunice long and hard, searching for her one last time. Despite herself, her hand lifts and she quickly moves blonde hair out of Mary Eunice's eyes. They blink back at her, unphased.

Lana leans forward. "I'm coming back for you."

She pushes herself quickly up off the floor before Mary Eunice has a chance to change her mind, not looking back once as she scoops her jacket and hurries out of the room, the door slamming shut on her heels.


End file.
